


let's run all the red lights

by wordsnnotes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Banter, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Football, KIND OF I GUESS, Light Angst, M/M, POV Harry Styles, Small Towns, Smoking, Summer, it's only 3k okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28149276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsnnotes/pseuds/wordsnnotes
Summary: Sometimes—like right now—Harry was starstruck by Louis. What was he even still doing in their small boring town? He was destined for greater things, Harry was sure of it. So, until the day came where Louis would inevitably go away, Harry was holding on to each one of their moments together like it was a pearl on a precious necklace that he couldn’t afford to lose.Or: Harry has always been in love with Louis, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	let's run all the red lights

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> It had been A WHILE since I'd written anything from Harry's POV, so it was like catching up with an old friend 😌
> 
> Thank you to Emma who suggested a prompt that spoke to my soul (Larry childhood friends with ace Harry). And thank you to Jess who gave me the first verse of Julia Michael's [17](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vy2g2TWrESY) as a source of inspiration.  
> Finally, thank you to Cami for making a lovely moodboard for the [fic post](https://quelsentiment.tumblr.com/post/637846573589659648/lets-run-all-the-red-lights-by-wordsnnotes-aka), as well as for her encouragements along the way. ily 💕
> 
> I couldn't help myself and picked a City and Colour lyric for the title once again. This one is from a song called [Young Lovers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDpLn-FNdAg).

_I had a dream we were riding in a drop top down the block_   
_Taking our time doing whatever we want_   
_You put your hand on top of my hand_   
_And just like Grease, we were summer loving_   
_Had our first kiss and we hit the ground running, ah_   
_You put your hand on top of my hand_

Julia Michaels - 17

⚽⚽⚽

“H, wake up!” an all-too familiar voice said.

There was an all-too familiar hand shaking his shoulder as well.

“Lou, leave me alone,” Harry groaned.

He put the cover over his head and turned his back to Louis.

How dared he disturb his precious sleep? Well, it wasn’t like that exact same event didn’t happen time and time again. But still. It was annoying.

Harry heard Louis huff and take some steps, and suddenly there was a bright light invading his personal—and sleepy—state.

“What the fuck?” Harry grumbled, disappearing deeper under the blanket.

“It’s almost noon, love,” Louis pointed out softly, and Harry felt him sit on the bed beside him. “Also, guess who just got his driver’s license and is here to take you for a ride?” he added in a nonchalant voice, but Harry knew him better than than, and he could sense that Louis could hardly contain his excitement.

Which, he hardly could either.

“Shit, are you serious?”

In a split second, he was out of the covers and scooting next to Louis.

“Yep! Guess I’m not that much of a disaster after all,” his friend winked.

“Of course you aren’t,” Harry exclaimed, and he hugged Louis tightly. “I never doubted you,” he added, mumbling against the other boy’s shirt. It smelt like home, he thought absently. Not just Louis’ home, but home.

“We both know that’s a lie,” Louis chuckled, and who was Harry to contradict him when he was looking at him like that, with his bright smile and his crinkled eyes and his messy mair?

Sometimes—like right now—Harry was starstruck by Louis. What was he even still doing in their small boring town? He was destined for greater things, Harry was sure of it. So, until the day came where Louis would inevitably go away, Harry was holding on to each one of their moments together like it was a pearl on a precious necklace that he couldn’t afford to lose.

“Come on, put some clothes on so we can go,” Louis said, getting up from the bed and stretching like he was the one who’d just woken up. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Your mum told me she’s making brunch—whatever that means. I think it involves food.”

⚽⚽⚽

“So, where should we go?” Louis asked, starting the engine and pulling out of Harry’s driveway with a concentrated look on his face.

It felt weird to see him behind the wheel. He was almost officially an adult now, close to finishing school and going away to university, or somewhere else entirely to do God knew what. Amazing things, surely. 

But it was bittersweet to Harry, who didn’t remember ever seeing him grow-up. In his mind, he was still ten-year-old Louis, sneaking out to come to his room in the summer evenings because his parents were arguing. Harry would try to distract him then, making silly jokes or putting on a show for him, until Louis smiled again and told him he was his best friend. 

Not much had changed since those days. Except somewhere along the line, they’d stopped using the words ‘best friend’ to refer to one another. Harry wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because it was quite a childish concept, when you thought about it. They both had other friends they were incredibly close to, after all. But sometimes, Harry couldn't help wondering if there was another reason. 

Louis had come out to him as gay a while ago, and in turn Harry had admitted he was pretty confused about the whole thing. It had been a vague feeling he’d carried pretty much his whole life, a feeling of not understanding that puzzling concept people called ‘attraction’.

“But how can you tell you’re attracted to someone, and not to someone else?” he’d asked Louis. “Like, how did you find out you were attracted to boys?”

“Well, you know…” Louis had said, blushing. “I’m just attracted to them, that’s all.”

“But attracted _how_?” Harry had insisted.

“C’mon, H, do you really want me to paint you a picture?”

“Maybe I do, yeah.”

So Louis had methodically explained stuff that Harry still didn’t really want to think about, because it made him uncomfortable. But at least he’d found out then. He’d found out that he’d never felt that kind of attraction in his life, and months later, he still hadn’t. Probably never would.

Within a few days, he’d come across the proper term for it on the internet: asexuality. He’d almost run to the football pitch where Louis was training, and had to restrain himself from shouting the news across the field.

Instead, he’d impatiently waited for Louis to be done, and had almost jumped on him before he could reach the changing room.

“I found it!” he’d exclaimed without context, gripping Louis’ hands without realising it.

“Found what?” Louis had asked, smiling in confusion.

“What I am! It’s called asexuality, apparently. It’s the lack of sexual attraction. Ace, for short.”

There had been a beat, then Louis’ grin had grown larger.

“Well, I always said you were ace, but I guess I was right in more than one way.”

And that had been that.

Over the following months, Harry had figured out that even though he was ace, he could still be attracted to people romantically, though. Namely, boys. Namely, Louis.

And that was the crux of the problem. Everybody knew that falling in love with your best friend—whether or not you still referred to him as such—was a bad idea. Especially if it was one-sided, and especially if he was going away soon.

“So, where should we go?” Louis repeated, turning to look at him with inquisitive eyes.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered.

“You were somewhere else for a minute, weren’t you?” 

Louis’ smile was fond, and Harry’s heart melted a little.

He pulled himself together, and finally answered Louis’ question:

“Um, I don’t know, anywhere is good, I guess. We could just drive down the block or something.”

“Always the decisive one, huh?” Louis said with a smirk.

“It’s early and you took me by surprise,” Harry grumbled.

“It’s not that early, love.” 

They took a turn and reached Liam’s street. Harry wondered if Louis would suggest inviting him—and possibly Zayn and Niall—on their little outing, but he drove past his house without saying a word.

“You’re letting me decide, then?” Louis asked a few minutes later, glancing at Harry.

“I mean, yeah. It’s your car, after all,” Harry shrugged. “But keep your eyes on the road, please.”

He wasn’t actually afraid for his safety, but sometimes the way Louis looked at him was simply too much for him to handle.

“Alright, alright, jeez.” 

Louis rolled his eyes but turned his head back, and they fell into silence, watching the same houses, the same gardens, and the same streets pass by their window over and over again. Harry was dying to get away from this place, but he’d still have to wait a few more years. It couldn’t come soon enough, especially considering he’d have to spend those years alone once Louis would be gone.

“What’s up with you?” Louis suddenly asked. “You seem off today.”

“Nothing.”

How could he explain to Louis that he didn’t want him to go? It would make him sound selfish, or dramatic. Whiny, even. He couldn’t possibly ask him to stay just for his sake. 

So he had to bite his tongue, and pretend that everything was okay. They still had one school year to go, anyway. He had time to get used to the idea of Louis leaving.

Louis glanced at him again, tutted, but left it at that, thankfully.

Harry could feel an awkward silence starting to settle in the car, so he turned the radio on and drowned it in pop music until his ears hurt.

⚽⚽⚽

In the end, Louis took them to the football pitch at the edge of town. 

The city council had built a new one closer to the school a few years prior, and Harry hadn't been to that old one since then. Even under the bright August sun, it looked a little creepy. The grass was yellow and burnt, the white lines had almost faded away, and the nets were loose and teared off the pillars. On top of that, the ball Louis had brought was half-deflated.

“Feels like we’re in a zombie movie or something,” Harry chuckled.

“I know,” Louis smiled, dropping the ball at his feet and starting to dribble like he couldn’t help it. “You’re done pouting, then?”

“Wasn’t pouting,” Harry pouted.

Louis burst out laughing, and Harry had to look away. 

He didn’t know why, but today was one of those days where Louis’ entire being felt like it was radiating and almost blinding him. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t learnt how to handle it.

Biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from grinning at the sight, he said:

“Come on, Tomlinson, let’s play.”

Louis was the professional here, but after having spent years playing against him whenever they were bored and didn’t know what else to do, Harry had become quite decent at the game. It wasn’t even his own assessment but Louis’ himself—Harry had overheard him tell as much to Niall one day. But of course, Louis would never admit it to his face, and kept making fun of the way he ran after the ball instead.

“You’re like a giraffe, H,” was the metaphor he’d settled on today, and it was all Harry could do not to giggle his heart out at it.

But he currently had the ball after spending five minutes trying to steal it from Louis, and he couldn’t allow the other boy to distract him and steal it back.

“And _you_ look like a goat,” he gritted through his teeth, picking the first animal that crossed his mind.

He was starting to run out of breath, but the goal was only a few feet away now. He was vaguely aware of Louis’ body somewhere in the periphery of his own, but all he could focus on was the ball—he had the inconvenient habit to trip over it when the pressure got too much.

And Louis obviously knew it well.

“Not gonna trip on me now, Styles, are ya?”

“Move, wanker,” Harry huffed.

The net was right in front of him and Louis was way too close to him to be able to defend it properly. All he had to do was to find the right angle and then…

Just as he was starting to lift his right leg to shoot the ball, something unexpected happened.

Louis moved impossibly closer to him, effectively crowding his space, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Harry, who was standing on one leg with a somewhat precarious balance, was so surprised that, before what had happened could even reach his brain, he hit the ground and lost the ball to Louis, who started running with it in the opposite direction.

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules,” Harry called after him.

“I’m pretty sure there are no rules,” Louis shouted back in a sing-song voice, throwing him the finger, and shit. Harry was really desperately in love with him. 

He shook off the incoming wave of feelings and got back on his feet, starting to run after Louis.

The thing was, maybe his long legs _did_ make him look like a giraffe, but they also made him faster than Louis, and he caught up with him in a matter of seconds.

 _Take that_ , he thought in triumph as he launched his full body towards the other boy’s legs and tackled him to the ground.

"You're aware that this is footie we’re playing and not rugby right?" he heard a muffled voice say underneath him.

He rolled over to come lie next to Louis, who was face down against the grass and looking at him sideways, unimpressed.

“I thought you said there were no rules?” Harry pointed out nonchalantly.

Louis scoffed and rolled to his side to face him.

“What even was the point if you’re not gonna get up and take that ball to the net?”

“Maybe the point was to show you who’s in charge,” Harry replied without thinking, realising too late how his words could be interpreted.

Louis smirked, because _of course_ he would catch that.

“You’re aware of what that sounds like, right?”

“Yes. I’m ace, not clueless.”

He could feel himself blush, and slightly hated himself for it.

Louis seemed to sense his discomfort, and grew more serious as he said:

“Sorry. Of course I know you being ace doesn’t mean you’re completely oblivious to those things. And even if you were, that would be nothing to be ashamed about, obviously.”

It always made Harry cringe a little whenever someone else brought up how _valid_ his sexuality—and whatever it may entail—was. It felt like they were lecturing him, somehow, and even though he knew they only meant to be supportive and reassure him, sometimes he was tired of people thinking he needed to be reassured about it.

“I know that,” was all he answered, sitting up and bringing his knees to his chest.

Louis didn’t say anything in response, and Harry could see him sit up as well, leaning on his elbows.

He knew they’d need to have a conversation about all of this at some point. But the only time they’d really discussed Harry’s sexuality was when he’d come out, and they had both only mentioned it in passing since then. Harry suspected that on Louis’ part, he was just trying to respect his boundaries. And on Harry’s part… as soon as he’d found out about the whole romantic orientation thing, and what it potentially meant for him with regards to Louis, he’d been stuck in a dilemma of whether or not he should tell him and risk having his heart broken, as well as altering their friendship forever.

He spotted the ball lying abandoned on the grass a few feet away from them, and without warning, he was overwhelmed with a sadness so strong it instantly brought tears to his eyes.

What was happening to him today? he thought, trying to force the salt water back to the safety of his pupils. But his lips were trembling and he could feel Louis’ eyes on them.

“H, what’s going on?” he asked softly.

He sat up completely and moved closer to him, his hand coming to rest over one of Harry’s on the ground.

“I don’t even know,” Harry sniffed. 

“Come on… You must have _some_ idea.”

Harry sighed, still stubbornly avoiding Louis’ eyes.

“It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s not, if it’s making you upset.”

His grip on Harry’s hand tightened, and without thinking, Harry turned his hand upwards and interlaced their fingers together. He needed something to anchor him in the moment, something tangible that proved that Louis was still here.

He finally detached his eyes from the ball, and looked at their hands instead, and at how Louis’ slender fingers fit between his own. They hadn’t held hands like this in forever—since they were kids, probably. But it didn’t feel strange at all. It felt like everything Harry could ever want, more precious than any material good he could think of.

And now that he had Louis’ palm against his, the possibility of them ever being apart made him ache somewhere deep in his chest.

“I don’t want you to go,” he blurted out, regretting it immediately.

The last thing he had wanted was to sound whiny, and that was already spectacular fail.

“What do you mean?” Louis asked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Maybe not right now, but eventually you will. Once you finish school, you’ll go to uni or something,” Harry tried to explain, forcing his voice to remain even. “Like, there’s no way you’re staying here longer than you need to, and honestly I don’t blame you. Even though I’m gonna miss you so much I’m already freaking out about it, apparently,” he chuckled.

“I don’t know who put this idea into your head, but once again, I’m not going anywhere,” Louis answered, and Harry snapped his head to look at him. He seemed unusually serious. “Even once I’m done with college, I thought I’d stay here and get a job or something,” he added.

“You want to stay here?” Harry asked, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice. “ _Here_?”

Louis shrugged.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Aren’t you afraid of, I don’t know, getting bored? When there’s so much more to see out there?”

With his other hand, Louis picked up a piece of grass and played with it for a few seconds, deep in thought, before tearing it to shreds and answering:

“I would never get bored of this place. Especially as long as you're here too.”

Harry could have screamed in joy at the admission, but he felt it would have been selfish, somehow. 

“I don't want you to stay for me,” he said.

What he feared more than anything, even more than Louis leaving, was him being stifled and getting stuck here forever.

“It wouldn’t just be for you,” Louis replied. “There's my sisters as well, and my mum, obviously. And I don’t know, I have no idea what I wanna do next. But I know I don't wanna leave, and I doubt it's going to change anytime soon, okay? I don't care if leaving would be the normal thing to do by Western standards or whatever. This is home, and I'm not ready for it to change.”

Harry felt like it was useless to push the debate. He only wanted what was best for him, and if Louis thought staying here would make him happy, who was Harry to think otherwise? 

It was just a matter of perspective. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t overjoyed at having Louis around for longer than what he’d expected.

“Is that really why you were upset? Because you thought I was leaving?” Louis asked.

“I guess so. Feels pretty stupid now.”

It was stupid on more than one level, actually. The main one being that he was hopelessly gone for Louis, when Louis just saw him as a friend. Although that kiss…

Louis’ voice interrupted his thoughts.

“S’not stupid. I’m just sorry I didn’t catch that earlier. Would’ve saved you a lot of worrying, apparently.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry replied, biting his lip. Louis truly wasn’t the one to blame for his being overly dramatic with this. “I’ve always worried too much about stuff, anyway,” he continued. “Maybe it’s time I change that.”

That was only a half-hearted comment, the kind of thing you say without truly meaning it, just to say _something_ —Harry did that a lot. But Louis frowned anyway.

“You don’t have to change, okay? Not if you don’t want to.”

And there it was—the lecturing tone again. But this time Harry didn’t mind it that much. After all, that was the exact same tone Louis used with his sisters, who were probably the people he loved the most in life. And it was also sweet to see a mostly clueless teenager try to give advice to a completely clueless one. Harry smiled.

“Also, just so you know,” Louis continued, suddenly turning fidgety and taking a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket, “even if I was going away, you've been in my life for as long as I can remember, and nothing could erase that. So it would take a lot more than geographical technicalities for you to lose me.”

He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it up, doing the same with Harry’s heart in the process.

“What would it take?” Harry asked in a shaky voice, convinced that he’d been momentarily possessed by some kind of spirit hanging out on the old football pitch. Because how else would he have been brave enough to ask this?

The smoke made Louis cough, and it _never_ happened.

“Seriously? You’re asking me what it would take for me to lose you?” 

“Yeah,” the spirit confirmed.

“That was just a manner of speaking.”

Louis’ cheeks were red, and his eyes were slightly panicked.

“So nothing? Nothing could make me lose you?”

“ _Nothing_.” 

And there was such finality in that one word, that Harry had no choice but to jump into the unknown, with the two syllables as his safety guard.

“Lou, I have to tell you something…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> Kudos/comments/[reblogs](https://quelsentiment.tumblr.com/post/637846573589659648/lets-run-all-the-red-lights-by-wordsnnotes-aka) are always much appreciated, but no pressure ✨


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